


Awake, Alone.

by snaeken



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, By repeatedly kicking a tree, Canon Related, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snaeken/pseuds/snaeken
Summary: Corey and Mason aren't coping after the defeat of the Dread Doctors.





	Awake, Alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like I'm riding the angst train today

Corey has been curled up on the couch for hours, staring blankly at the television. It may as well have been static, considering how little attention he’s actually paying to it. His thoughts and memories are much more vivid than anything that screen could show him.

Corey was no stranger to his life collapsing around him. Between losing his boyfriend, discovering he was transformed into a chimera and ultimately being killed, he’s not exactly had an easy time of it. Things worked out in the end though. He moved in with Mason and his mom after Theo was sent to Hell and the Dread Doctors were defeated. It’s not official, not really, but Mason’s mom hasn’t kicked him out yet and his parents haven’t noticed he’s gone. Again. At least he’s still breathing this time.

After everything that’s happened in Beacon Hills lately, he’s not sure if any of them have a way back from this. The McCall pack are still badly fractured from Theo’s manipulation, still not quite able to fully trust each other again yet. Corey and Mason aren’t part of their pack, not really, and so they’ve mostly been left alone. With the exception of Liam, that is, who isn’t exactly Corey’s biggest fan anyway.

And Mason… his mom works three jobs just to try and keep a roof over their heads, to add to Mason’s college fund in the hope that he can make a better life for himself, yet Corey still sees more of her than he does of Mason.

 

Corey sighs and glances at the clock; nearly 1am. He wants to sleep. Or, more accurately, he wants to _rest_. Not because he’s tired, that’s more or less his constant state at this point. No, it’s because it will pass some time until he has to remember everything that’s happened.

He craves the few fleeting moments after waking up, when his memories haven’t quite caught up to his consciousness yet. For those few moments, he can forget. He figures that’s what Mason’s trying to do too. Sleep is their drug and waking up is the worst possible comedown.

He ascends the stairs, hesitating outside Mason’s bedroom. He doesn’t feel like he can call it _their_  bedroom, considering Corey hasn’t slept in it for weeks.

The food and water he left outside the door have been moved, Corey notices. Mason must have gotten up at some point. Corey’s been bringing meals up for Mason, worried that his boyfriend would rather starve than come downstairs. More often than not the meals have gone ignored, but at least this time Mason’s made the effort. It almost makes it all worthwhile.

The pacifist in Corey feels sick when he so much as thinks about Mason - which is more or less all the time - as irrational as it may be. The Beast of Gevaudan smirks at him in his mind, blood dripping from his claws. Knowing that the boy on the other side of the door has a body count is sickening, innocent in the process though he may have been.  

 

Corey still loves him, though.

 

Corey hesitantly raises his hand to knock on the door. He tries listening for any signs of life on the other side but can only hear his own breath. He wants to hold Mason, to let him know that even if he can’t speak about it, that’s fine. He wants Mason to hold him with those once comforting arms, threading his fingers through his hair like he had the last time Corey had felt broken. Those same fingers which were covered in the blood of innocent people. Corey lowers his hand and walks away.

 

***

 

Corey forces himself to go to school when Monday rolls around. He and Mason have skipped the last few weeks and while this wouldn’t have been an issue for him beforehand, now Scott’s pack are starting to notice. The boy himself turned up at Mason’s house the day before, wanting to speak to them both. Mason wouldn’t come out of his room, so it led to an entirely awkward one-sided conversation in which Scott tried to reassure Corey that life goes on despite the horrors they’ve all faced. Corey’s still not sure if he can believe a word Scott says. Not when merely thinking about him causes phantom pain in the back of his neck, a bone deep, stabbing sensation in the form of claws.

He needs to get back into some sort of routine, wants to try and get his life back on track. When he arrives just before the first bell, he has to hide behind a group of students to avoid Deputy Parrish. He and Sheriff Stilinski have been stationed at the school, the only visible sign that anything out of the ordinary has happened in Beacon Hills lately. From the snatches of conversations he’s heard, nobody is talking about it at all. Maybe Scott was right, life goes on. People can be so incredibly fickle.

 

Halfway through his math class Corey gets up and leaves. He really, truly, doesn’t give one single fuck about algebra. How can he, when he knows what’s really going on out in the world? How can _they?_  People stare at him as he goes, their eyes like needles on his back, but they all have the decency not to say anything. He doesn’t spare a glance for the teacher, but he can feel her pitying gaze follow him out of the room.

He turns invisible out in the corridors, easily slipping past Deputy Parrish again when he gets outside. It’s funny, he used to wish he wasn’t so invisible and now he can’t imagine going without it. He stays invisible for his whole walk through town, occasionally bumping into people on purpose just to frighten them. Before he knows it, he reaches the Preserve.

And, entirely by accident, the Nemeton.

The supernatural beacon which has caused most, if not all, of the suffering he’s faced lately. He would burn it down himself, if he didn’t already know that won’t work. He wishes whoever cut it down to a stump originally had finished the job. Maybe Lucas wouldn’t have died. Maybe none of them would have. He kicks the Nemeton as hard as he can, crying out in pain when some of his toes crunch and break. He steadies himself, hopping around on one foot as he waits for his supernatural healing to do its thing.

Then he kicks it again. And again. And again.

On one of his attempts, he doesn’t wait for his foot to fully heal first. He cries out in agony, unable to remain standing as his vision whites out momentarily.

He’s crying, he realises. He doesn’t know if it’s a physical or emotional response. All he knows is that wiping his face is entirely too much effort.

He gets to his feet and kicks the Nemeton again.

 

***

 

It’s dark by the time Corey gets back to Mason’s house. He’s surprised to see a figure on the sofa when he gets inside, but it’s just Mason’s mom. She looks as tired as he feels, yet he’s never heard her complain, not once. She stands up when she sees him and pulls him into a hug. She doesn’t say anything, just kisses his forehead. He lets her hold him and tries to think about his own mom doing this. He can’t.

She releases him only when she has to. _After_  when she has to, actually, and now Corey feels guilty that she’s going to be late for her night shift.

 

He ascends the stairs, hesitating outside Mason’s door. There’s an empty plate on the ground. Corey steels himself, shakes off the images of bloody hands, and knocks.

When he stands for a minute and doesn’t get an answer, he considers going back downstairs. Instead, he opens the door.

The smell is unpleasant to say the least, the air stuffy like the window hasn’t been opened in a long time. There are no lights on but there’s an easily distinguishable lump on the bed.

“Go away,” Mason croaks, voice scratchy with disuse.

Corey stands in the doorway, waiting for Mason to say something, anything else, give some sort of indication he actually wants Corey here, in his house, in his life.

He doesn’t.

Corey sighs and closes the door, leaving Mason in darkness.

 

***

 

Corey wakes up to a scream.

He scrambles off the couch and up the stairs, barging into Mason’s room without hesitation. He flicks the light on and Mason’s sitting up in his bed, eyes wide and breathing heavily, sweat beaded on his face. He looks at his hands, haunted, then raises his gaze to Corey.

“I killed people.”

Corey’s heart breaks on the spot. All this time he’s been allowing his own issues to get in the way of their relationship, has been intentionally mistaking Mason’s own pain for indifference. They could have been trying to get through this together instead of suffering alone.

Corey closes the door behind him and climbs into bed beside Mason. He reaches out hesitantly, still wary of being brushed off. He rests a hand on Mason’s shoulder and he flinches, exhaling shakily, but doesn’t tell Corey to move. Corey slowly pulls him into a hug, relieved when Mason goes pliantly.

“I forgive you,” he whispers. Mason stills against him. “So please, please, forgive yourself.”

Mason starts to shake in Corey’s hold. Then the dam breaks. The first sob escapes from Mason, wet and agonised, and is swiftly followed by more. Corey tightens his grip and Mason flings his arms around him. Almost like a chain reaction, Corey’s own internal dam bursts and he starts to cry, so much more forceful than earlier that day. They cling to each other, trying to stay tethered to the tenuous reality around them. They weep for those they’ve lost. They weep for the parts of themselves that they’ve lost. They weep for the world they live in, for the suffering that is by no means over.

They have each other again. They can get through this.


End file.
